What Do You Need, Mike?
by peacegirl597
Summary: Mike Warren is sick. He feels absolutely disgusting... and there;s only one person in the house that has what is takes to make him feel better. What will Charlie do to help him get better? She can't know until he tells her what he needs. So why won't he? Charlie/Mike ship I guess


_**i would just like to say that Aaron Tviet Is Amazing and I love him and some of my friends are meeting him next Saturday and didn't invite me so I'm going to go cry now okay bye. **_

Mike was sick.

He didn't want to admit it, but he was and it was unavoidable. After being in Graceland for less than three months, he'd already managed to get himself under the weather. Briggs was going to kick his ass. He wasn't _allowed _to be sick. Not on mission days. They were supposed to be setting up a catch today with a drug dealer... how could he possibly lie to a convict when he couldn't even get out of bed without throwing up or passing out?

Normally, he'd already be up and ready, after going for a run on the beach at this hour, but today running didn't seem like such a good idea and getting up seemed like running a marathon in itself.

"Rise and shine, Mikey!" He heard Johnny yell, along with a few bangs on his door.

Groaning, Mike rolled himself out of bed and attempted to get ready without fainting. Hey threw on the first tee shirt he saw and pulled on a pair of khaki shorts before trudging down the stairs. He skipped breakfast, fearing what food might do to his stomach, and avoided the eyes of his co-workers. He didn't really care if they saw him sick... well, except for Briggs, who would shoot him down in a second at a glimpse of weakness.

"Damn, Levi. What happened?"

"Not in the mood," he grumbled at Charlie.

"Well I am. You look like something the cat dragged in," she continued.

"Can you please just drop it, I'm not feeling great." Mike mumbled, rubbing his forehead. He could feel the migraine already.

"Maybe you should stay in today." she suggested, "You don't look like you can take anything more than just standing there."

Mike didn't answer. He didn't want to admit to feeling horrible enough to skip work, but at the same time he knew she was right. He sighed, and debated whether or not to call in sick, well, in this case whether to call upstairs to Briggs that he was going to throw up if he had to go out on the field.

"Mike," Charlie said in a warning tone, "you know I'm right."

"I just don't want to be the one to tell the boss."

"I can do it. He likes me." she shrugged.

"Nah, I may be sick but I'm not stupid. The whole point of not wanting to stay here is because I can't have him thinking I'm weak. Having you call in sick for me kills that."

"Suit yourself," She chuckled, "If you need anything, I'm in today too. No new cases in nearly a week. It gets boring, but whatever."

"thanks, Charlie." Mike smirked.

"Any time, Levi."

Mike grunted, climbing back upstairs to Briggs's room. He knocked on the door and waited, only to be greeted by a husky reply of,

"What did I say about waking me up? I'm the boss. I'm going to sleep until I want to wake up."

"Sorry sir." Mike nodded, and Paul opened up his door. The agent looked Mike up and down, taking in his ill appearance.

"Damn, Levi."

"That's what I said!" They could hear Charlie yell from downstairs.

"Eavesdropping again?" Mike called down in a croaky voice.

"You know it, Froggy."

Rolling his eyes, he turned back to Briggs, "I don't think I can make it to the field today."

"Understandable. Do me a favor? Don't breathe on anything while I'm gone. I'll have Johnny back me up, but if you get me sick, I'm cutting you from our little squad."

"Got it." Mike sighed.

"Now... get in bed and away from me." Briggs said, holding up the corner of his shirt above his mouth like a mask against his co-workers germs.

"Yeah, yeah."

Back in his room, Mike tried sleeping, only to find it impossible. Even though he was exhausted, he kept getting chills and only one side of his nose was stuffed up, making him extremely uncomfortable. He put on some music on his Ipod, but it died quickly and did nothing to soothe him. He cringed at the thought of having to get up to get the charger. So, instead he just lied down on his back and stared at the creases and cracks in the ceiling.

"Still alive in here?" Charlie asked, entering his room.

"Barely. I'm bored, uncomfortable, and lonely."

"Well, well, well. Saint Mike, the ever-polite D.C. boy, morals in all, is _complaining?"_

"You got me."

"So what can I do for you, sickko?"

"Nothing. I'm fine. You don't need to do anything for me."

"Oh, but I do. It's a house rule. When one of us is sick, the rest have to help out. Johnny's got your chore chart for the day, DJ's making your food separate and Paige's picking up some meds at the drugstore on the way home. Lauren's supposed to be helping out, but she's Lauren. Briggs is out today so I guess he's helping by not giving you a hard time... which leaves me. It's my job to make you not so bored, uncomfortable, and lonely."

"Not doing such a good job , then." He winked.

"Hey!" She objected in her Brooklyn accent.

"I'm kidding. S'not you're fault I feel like shit."

"Then what can I do?" She offered again.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"Stop being stubborn and let me _help.__"_

"Fine. Could you please get me a water?"

"What do I look like, your waiter?"

"Char-" he started to protest.

"I was kidding! Gosh."

Charlie came back with the water as fast as humanely possible. She didn't exactly want to admit it, especially not to Mike, but it internally bugged her that he wasn't well. In fact, she'd been offered to go out on a job that day, and turned it down- for the sole purpose that she could stay with him and make sure he was okay. She wouldn't tell him that. He knew she liked him... but what if it turned out to be something more?

Meanwhile, Mike sat in the room coughing up a lung. He was getting worse, but wouldn't admit that to Charlie. She would worry too much, and the last thing he wanted was for her to worry herself over him. He wasn't worth it. He layed himself back down, but his head was pounding. Sitting up made it worse. his head was spinning suddenly, and he thought he was going to pass out by just laying there.

"Mike?" Charlie asked worriedly.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." He grunted out.

"Not you're not. C'mon, just... settle down. I have your water right here. Just take a few sips." He tried, but couldn't quite keep it down.

"Move," He gasped, untangling himself from the sheets, sprinting to the bathroom. She followed him, rubbing his back as last night's dinner made a reappearance. When he was done, he slowly got up and moved back to the bed, too embarrassed to look at Charlie.

"You okay?"

"Just dandy." he grumbled.

"What can I do? You gotta work with me before I can help."

He simply shrugged, suddenly aware of how disgusting he must look. He debated pulling the comforter over his head, but thought it would be too childish.

"Miikkkeee" She sang, "Tell me so I can get your face pretty again. No offense, but you look dreadful."

He knew she was kidding, but it was already a touchy subject with him. So, he _did_ pull the covers over his face.

"Oh, don't be like that. You're gonna make your fever rise." She pulled them back to reveal him. He put them over his head again. She pulled back. It went on that way for a little while before she spoke up again.

"I didn't mean it! You can't stay mad at me. Let me see that gorgeous face of yours."

She wasn't lying this time. To her, even when he was sick as a dog and vomiting, he was beautiful. Covered in sweat and flushed with fever, his body was still nice. She shouldn't have joked around like that. He kept them over his face.

"What can I do to get you to take them off?"

Nothing.

She could only think of one way to get him to stop. In one swift motion, she pulled the blankets off of him and leaned down to kiss him. He jumped back fast, before diving back into it.

"How did you know?" he asked after a minute.

"How did I know what?"

"How did you know what I actually needed?"

She smiled, "Lucky guess."

The next morning, Mike felt a thousand times better. Charlie, however, was not in good shape.

"Levi!" She growled.

"Don't worry, hon. I know exactly what you need to get better."


End file.
